Title: Love's Wounds
Genre: NCIS – Angst
Pairing: Tony and Ziva
Rating: M – for language and implied content.
Timeline: Tags 10X23.
Spoilers: Vague for that episode and Ziva's Israel trip.
Summary: It was not supposed to hurt this much.
Disclaimer: If they were mine I would not hurt them this much.
A/N: This one is for Sammy, because I know how much her heart bled for him.
Written: June 2013
Language: International English.
Word Count: 1,494

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Tony closed the door behind him and braced his back against it, allowing his backpack to slip unchecked to the floor. Drawing in a deep breath, he lifted his hands and rubbed his face as he allowed gravity to pull him down. The emotional burden of the day simply too overwhelming, his legs gave up the fight to hold him upright and saw him sinking to his haunches.

The heavy sensation on his heart tightened to an overwhelming, painful, ache, and had he not been aware of the cause, he would have thought there was something seriously wrong with it. They weight that had earlier settled over it, had felt crushing, and if he was honest with himself, a crushed heart would probably been easier to handle, that the pain his thought, and feelings provoked, and on the back of them anger….

How could she!

He had been there for her, willing to catch her, support her, god even give his life for her…. he'd even gone as far as telling her she was not alone; And then she had to go and do this, had to go rip his heart out in the most callous of ways. He could not even put to words what he was feeling, because words and emotions never seemed to come together for him, he never seems to be able to make sense of it all… Like his feelings for her. They have always been there, he's always cared about her. Somehow life made sense when she was in it…. And no matter how much she hurt him, he could never turn his back on her, ever.

Over the last few months they had grown closer: It had caused him to hope, like he's never even dared of hoping before. He really thought he had gotten through to her, that she actually saw that he was serious, that he wanted a chance, wanted to be considered worthy. Only for her to turn to another, 'A moment of weakness,' she had called it. Deep down he could understand, hell, he was as guilty of them. But this time it hurt, this time it had touched a part of him he never allowed anyone to touch, and as much as he tied to understand, he could not come to accept her actions.

He wanted to be the one she turned to during times like that. He did not just want to be the one who picked her up and dusted her off. He wanted to be the one that made her feel less lonely, that got to share those intimacies with her. She was supposed to be his, dammit!

The day had been difficult enough, just the unveiling of her actions had been enough to send his hear crashing to the ground… yet that had been nothing compared to her dismissal thereof, like she thought it would not affect him. Only to be followed by his own infliction of self-torture; thought and images of her and the other guy… the realization that she had allowed another that close, that intimate to her. That another man had gotten to remove her clothes, had touched, kissed that which was forbidden to him. His hands clenched into tight fists as he fought against the images.

The entire afternoon he had fought to keep it together, to remain cool and calm, and to do his job. For so many years he had rejected those things that hurt him, had brushed them off… but this was different. It was not something he could joke about, only to cast aside. Even within his own haven, where he hid from the world and all of its dishonesty, he was no longer safe. Here he could feel thing, allow things to take hold of him, without others discovering it. It was safe… or used to be. For it no longer felt safe, other had moved within these walls, disturbing the solace they once contained: first his father with his philandering, swindling ways, and then her…

Memories of her presence in his home, filled every room. If he closed his eyes he could see her there, almost as if her presence lingered. It felt right, like it belonged. Only now it hurt, the thought of what she had done after sleeping in his bed… he could visualize her within these walls, could see her in his bed, and remembered what it was like to be there with her: to be there when she needed someone, him, and to touch her, to feel her warm skin under his palms.

And it angered him, God how it angered him. He has always put her needs first, though of what would be best for her… and he had patiently waited his turn, hoping that it had finally arrived. It had been so hard, bordering on excruciatingly painful, not to pull her into his arms that night. Not to take advantage of her momentary weakness, her need for comfort. To ease her pain in the simplest way possible, the way that got him what he wanted…. But no, foolishly he had waited, and instead of turning to him, she had turned to another.

That night in Berlin he should have known something was wrong, it was not like her to be hesitant to share a bed with him; there had been the undercover thing, and Paris and that hot hellhole last year. He should have known something was wrong when she hesitated. Yet foolishly he had believed that it was only because of the growing awareness between them, that she felt it to, and although it was not yet time to act on it, she was not fighting it. He wanted to hold her, to be close to her, like that evening in Paris, where he had simply soaked up her presence, and allowed it to sooth his soul.

Yet it didn't make sense, because even though he was angry with her, livid even, he could forgive her… and that, only because he was not there at the time. She had far away from him, and not yet his; in actuality. And that was what hurt the most. The fact that he actually has no right to feel the way he does; but even that reasoning did not make him feel it any less. Just the thought that another man had been that intimate with her, that he had peeled off her clothes, relished in her body, that he had….

Seeing red did not even begin to describe what he felt. The rage that filled him at the injustice of it all. God, he was more than willing to step forward and be that for her, even if all she wanted was casual…

No. He couldn't, not with her. It was too much to ask.

He needed to possess her, claim her, imprint on her that he would be her last lover. He could not be casual, would never be able to cast off such a thing a weak moment. But if it was all he could have, he would take it; it was despicable what she managed to do to him. Drink, he needed a drink. And with that thought he got up from the floor and made for his bar, not even sparing the bottle he grabbed a glance. It did not matter what he drank, as long as it numbed his mind, and possibly the pain.

He splashed a hefty amount into a glass and then took it with him to the couch, where he simply flopped down. He needed time to make sense of it all time, to make peace with the fact that she was unlikely to ever accept his as more of a brotherly figure, a friend. Someone she could lean on, but never wanted in any other capacity. It hurt; all his thoughts hurt. Never before had it bugged him as much… yes, he'd known she was with Rifkin, and Ray, and it had bugged him; but not like this. It had not felt like someone had taken a blunt knife and scythed at his guts with it. But mostly, it was the fact that she could turn to another in a moment of weakness, that she could so freely give to someone else that which he was practically begging, panting for. God he'd as good as sell his soul to be allowed the privilege of caressing her naked skin, to be allowed to sink into her; to finally discover the one thing that has eluded him for so many years already.. He felt sick to his stomach simply thinking of it. His grip tightened on the glass, threatening to shatter it as his knuckles turned white.

Well if she could turn to another, what was stopping him? He put his glass down and reached for his wallet, checking his contents, he had enough cash and a condom, he could go trolling, get hammered and laid….

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Missy's ears finally pricked, after her three month long hiatus…